


At Fault

by clownerooni



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Issues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Minor Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23261605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clownerooni/pseuds/clownerooni
Summary: The tribal chief makes sure that Qrow knows where the blame lies.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	At Fault

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes  
> Qrow is maybe 10 here, pals

Qrow was staring right into the wild red eyes of the man before him.  
Taking on such an intimidating stance, he looked down at him, slicing through him to his very core with a snarl.  
It was everything to stifle the shakes.  
Everything in him was screaming to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness from the chief, from his sister, from the whole tribe.  
But he held himself high, shoulders straight, feet together, arms down.  
He was in perfect alignment.

"It was _you._ " The man's low voice chilled him to the bone.  
The boy's eyes immediately watered, and he stubbornly blinked it away.  
Trying to stay still, trying to stay calm.  
His hands were balled up tight into fists at his sides, trembling, while shame heated his skin with a harsh burn. 

Something moved to his right, and he instinctively spared a glance at…  
Raven-  
The chief's hand clamped down on his chin, jerking his face up and toward him again.  
Qrow swallowed thickly.  
"You look at me when I speak to you, child." 

His face immediately throbbed when he was let go.  
He had to stop himself from rubbing it to soothe the ache.  
He blinked a few more times.

"Do you understand," This man ground out between his clenched broken teeth,  
"What happened today?"  
Qrow nodded quickly.  
He knew all too well. 

The man looked around to the surrounding tribe members, giving them all a look of conviction.  
They murmured amongst themselves.  
Some lowered their heads.  
Some were weeping.  
Some were furious, Qrow noted.

"We lost one of our best today." The chief's face twitched, and he began to pace back and forth.  
Appearing to get lost in thought.  
The chief was always one to have such a steely resolve.  
Someone who carried this air of belligerence, intolerance, and raw power, which seemed to be triumphed by the utter disdain he had for the boy that stood before him. 

Everything seemed to culminate together to where Qrow had only known his harshness, his criticism, his disapproval, and his discipline.

This whole event that had taken place seemed to stir up a whole different kind of feeling.  
Something that Qrow could hardly anticipate.

"She was dedicated to this tribe.  
She should have been a role model, to you all.  
She didn't let a single thing get in her way." He paused and looked pensive for a moment, glancing to Qrow.  
"She spit in the face of fear, and I don't think I'll ever know a better fighter. She gave everything. She has single handedly raided villages, and she has made damn sure that there was enough food for everyone- for your ungrateful ass."

Qrow lingered on that for a moment with a feeling of dejection, thinking on the many nights he wasn't allowed to eat because,  
_"Other people need this more than you."_

The chief went down a list of praises and honors for this woman, every last thing that she offered to the tribe.  
And showing such passion.  
The likes of which Qrow had never seen from him.

The chief's gaze fell back on him hard, and then his tone turned sour.  
"But unfortunately,"  
The boy screwed his eyes shut, trapping the moisture that kept building and building.  
"There was one thing that always seemed to drag her down. Only one fault."  
He turned his back to him entirely as the fury wracked through his system.  
Qrow could feel it in the air before he even said it.

"She was your _mother_."

...  
But those words felt so strange.  
Mother.

It was something he had never uttered in her direction.  
Something he so rarely considered when he would see her around camp, or when she was training him, or when she punished him for the stupid little things his semblance messed up.  
She was a leader, a bandit, a cold woman.

She was not his mother.

Just the same as this man.

He was blood, but he was not Qrow's father. 

His feet and his hands were numb to static and only growing further toward his center.  
Everyone had eyes on him.  
The chief whipped back around, his face scrunched up with anguish. 

"She _**NEVER**_ would have made a mistake like this."  
He spat, his voice was elevating and it was scaring Qrow.  
He hated when his voice got loud, he hated it.

"She never would have died like this, missing the shot, she _never misses a shot_. Falling before the maw of a vile Grimm she has defeated countless times." 

The man took Qrow by the shoulders with a bruising grip and shook him hard.  
"She was chewed up and spit out like she was worthless, like nothing she did or worked for even mattered."  
He got really close to the boy's face this time,  
"This is all **_YOUR_** fault, you defective freak of nature." The chief sneered a laugh, humorless, edging on manic, " ** _Your_** cursed existence is the reason we all gather here on such frequent occasions.  
**_YOU_** make us vulnerable to the Grimm.  
**_YOU_** make us weak.  
And my patience has been running very thin."

This time Qrow actively swung his head around, trying desperately to meet eyes with his sister.  
The Chief's tone was edging dangerously close to sinister, and it sparked a new fear in his gut- he couldn't do this, where was she?  
When he saw her, she was looking away.

He looked back at the chief and his composure immediately crumbled.  
"I-I'm sorry!" His voice wavered, his lower lip trembling, he saw that the man was only growing more furious.

He shook his head and shrunk back.  
"I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, please." Tears flooded over, streaking down his cheeks.  
"I'm s-orry, I'm trying to- to stop…" Qrow tried to smother the waterworks, hands swiping across his face.  
"I don't know what to do!" He cried out.  
He was breathing hard, he was beginning to panic.  
Why couldn't he apologize enough, why couldn't he just hide away?

Then he was lifted off his feet, and thrown to the ground, _hard_.  
The wind exploded out of him and before he could even try to catch his breath, the heavy boot of his superior came down on his chest. 

"You are a disgrace to this tribe." He was monotone, though his eyes still flashed with something threatening.

"Take nothing. Leave camp, and come back in a month." He dug his heel down on him, Qrow was suffocating, feebly grabbing at the man's ankles.  
"You should be grateful that you may even come back."  
He cast a glance to where Raven was, scoffed, and then looked back down at his child.

He leaned over top of him, "You're going _alone_."

And one more firm push before lifting his foot off.  
Qrow gasped for air, just before a kick to his ribs took it back out of him.  
He only heard the sound of the dirt shifting underneath the chief's feet as he retired to his tent.  
But before disappearing into the folds there was a chuckle, and dripping with malice he said, "good luck."

The people that were surrounding were already flooding away.  
Wanting nothing to do with him, rather than taking it all out in him.  
With a fraction of relief, the boy rolled onto his side and let the tears freely fall.

Qrow curled in on himself, and gritted his teeth to stifle the whimpers that so desperately tried to escape him.  
He wished his sister were there to chide him for being such a baby, to pick him up, dust him off, and whip him back into shape.  
But this time she didn't come to him.  
He didn't even see her leave.

She was mad at him too.

His mouth curled and he breathed harshly, letting the reality sink in.  
Nobody could be around him, everything bad, the deaths of his family of crooks, it was his fault. 

They were so talented, far too strong in his eyes to ever be taken down by grimm or hunters.  
How else would they end up dying in a pool of their own blood, torn apart, shot through the heart, lost and nowhere to be found. 

It was his fault. 

Yesterday…  
Qrow was close enough to hear her screams, and the moment he did, he knew it was because of him.  
The other tribe members nearby looked right at him too, before racing forward to inspect the noise. 

But he froze, he couldn't bring himself to move with them.

How many times will he attract the Grimm right to their camp… hear the cries of their cursed victims?

He had started shaking, and the feeling of unbearable tightness in his chest was closing in. Qrow wanted to take off right then, scared of the consequences this time, dreadful that this was happening again.  
Maybe he should spare them all the very presence that he was.  
To protect them all from more tragedy and disaster. 

But he was too strong to run off, wasn't he? 

Or could he not handle the thought of being alone?

-

Qrow's head was throbbing, and the frantic thoughts in his mind were actually his second problem.

This is the kind of shit that threatened his vow to stay clean and sober, it made the sweet burning taste of alcohol call out to him even louder.  
It was the only thing he craved.

But everything else in him nailed his feet to the wooden balcony, glued his tense hands around the railing. 

There would be so many people who would be disappointed in him.  
His mind kindly screamed at him that they probably wouldn't doubt it. 

But he didn't want to disappoint anyone else, he didn't want to continue hurting the people he loved. Though running away- being sent away, always seemed like the best option...  
That hurt people too, didn't it? 

Qrow looked down at the bright, shimmery streets of Atlas with wet eyes.  
He closed them, thought about being far away, and took a deep breath.


End file.
